


Caught Wet-Handed

by atomicsupervillainess



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, HiJack March Madness 2016, Jemma Simmons Has No Chill, Lab Accidents, Lab Sex, Lab coats, Leo Fitz has no game, Masturbation, Memorizingthedigitsofpi's March Madness Fic pick-up, Nerd sex, Porn Watching, Porn with minimal Plot, Prompt: Caught Wet-Handed, Relationship Advice, Shipper Captain Daisy, Smut, So much smut, and Mack is just entirely done with ALL OF IT, and awkwardness, failed seduction attempts, virgin Fitz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicsupervillainess/pseuds/atomicsupervillainess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma tapped her fingers against her keyboard and chewed on her lower lip. What in the world was the google search term for this?</p><p>‘science + lab + pornography filetype:mov’?</p><p>‘laboratory + sex  site:pornhub.com’</p><p>‘sexy nerds fucking’</p><p>She had no idea where to even begin, but she was a clever girl with quite refined search skills. She knew she’d be able to get what she wanted.</p><p>… Eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyyy Friends! Long time no see! So I couldn't help myself, I had to pick up Pi's wonderful 'Caught Wet-Handed' March Madness fic, which got knocked out of the competition (HOW?!). The good news, IT IS NOT THE END FOR THIS FIC! The bad news? It's not Pi writing it! 
> 
> The slightly okay news? SHE DID END UP GRACING THIS VERSION WITH SOME ADDITIONS TO HER INITIAL BIT!
> 
> I can only hope that this version is acceptable! Hope you guys like it anyways! :D

* * *

 

Jemma tapped her fingers against her keyboard and chewed on her lower lip. She hadn’t really ‘taken care of herself’ in this way since before her ‘time away’ on Maveth, and she didn’t really know how to… ‘get back in the swing of things’ again.

What had she used to do when she was feeling like this?

She sighed and shook her head. She was being ridiculous. It wasn’t like this were a difficult puzzle to figure out.

She was feeling randy and in need of a wank, and she should just get on with things and have done with it.

Biting her lip again, she blushed and held back a small smile as she remembered what had always done the trick for her in her younger days.

If only she could remember  the google search term for it.

‘science + lab + pornography filetype:mov’?

‘laboratory + sex  site:pornhub.com’

‘sexy nerds fucking’

She had no idea where to even begin, but she was a clever girl with quite refined search skills. She knew she’d be able to get what she wanted.

… Eventually.

* * *

 

Jemma lay on her bunk, so close to orgasm and yet not quite able to reach it. She paused the video she’d been using as a masturbatory aid and pushed her laptop askew on her mattress to get it out of her way. Giving up on her vibrator as well, she replaced it with her fingers and tried to reach for those spots that she knew would get the job done.

Closing her eyes, she focused on remembering the image on her screen and tried to place herself inside it. Her fingers quickened their pace and her breath matched them as her mind fabricated the scenario and she allowed herself to pretend that it was real.

She was finally, _finally_ reaching her peak when she was jolted back to earth by a knock on her door.

“Jemma?” came Fitz’s voice, and she froze.

What in the world was he doing here? Now? When she was so close to-

She scrambled to her feet, twitching her sheets over top of her vibrator, and tried to pull her nightgown down into some semblance of order.

* * *

 

Fitz stared at the screen, not quiet believing what he was seeing.

“I-I-I-” Jemma stammered, pulling her nightgown down even further. “I can explain!” she finished. Then she mentally kicked herself because _explaining_ was neither necessary nor something she actually wanted to do.

Fitz swallowed hard a few times, still staring at Jemma’s laptop and completely forgetting about the book he’d been returning when he came in. “No need,” he whispered hoarsely.

Jemma closed her eyes and wished the ground would open up and swallow her. At least she’d managed to hide her vibrator?

* * *

 

Lying in bed, Fitz tried to ignore the feeling of his cock swelling against his thigh. It wasn’t easy, though, considering what he’d just seen.

He wasn’t particularly surprised by the fact that Jemma masturbated. She was an adult woman with sexual needs, and of course she would make sure to meet them.

No, the surprising thing had been what she’d been… using. As inspiration. For wanking.

Her laptop had been in split screen mode, and on one side was a frozen image from a paused video of two people in lab coats having sex in a clearly fake chemistry lab.

On the other side…

He gave up trying to ignore the urge and unzipped his jeans to indulge, instead.

On the other side of the screen had been a picture of him.

* * *

 

Jemma stared at the closed door where Fitz had swiftly exited. She had been staring at it for the past ten minutes, blinking. Should she go and clear the air? They were supposed to be back to friends now, and obviously that photograph of him with his bedroom eyes - her _favourite_ photo - must have been distressing to see. They were at a good place, and this unfortunate… _dalliance_ … would certainly muddle things, and probably had made him a good deal uncomfortable. It wasn’t fair of her.

She nodded to herself, rubbing anxiously at her neck. That settled it.

She had to go and say something.

She kept nodding, working herself up to it, as she took three large steps toward the door, tugging her cardigan from the chair-back as she went, tugging it on so at least something was covering her arse completely.

* * *

 

Fitz scoffed, eyes flicking across the video thumbnails on screen. It was porn, sure, but it was just so badly researched! Why even do something if you weren’t going to at least make a _passing_ attempt at authenticity? That carboy was for brewing beer, not holding chemical dilutions -

“Ah! _There_ you are,” Fitz muttered to himself, recognizing the screenshot from the video that had been reeling away on Jemma’s laptop. Right next to that picture of him... _But_ \- He shook his head, firmly denying the thought that sprung hopefully into it. She could have just not made the video full-size. It wasn’t as though his face was there because it was _his_ face.

He shifted on top of his sheets, pushing back against the pillows at the headboard, his brain lighting at the thought. Quickly, he used a few command keys to pull up his pictures, selecting the sexiest picture of Jemma that he had hidden away. Her hair was loose and hanging over her neck. Her V-neck shirt hung low, exposing her cleavage. She was unready for the selfie, biting her utterly delectable bottom lip and staring up at him through her eyelashes, instead of at the phone screen. He jostled the laptop on his thighs as he repositioned his hand on his semi-hard cock, and clicked play.

* * *

 

“I know it must be confusing-” Jemma began, pivoting on her heel, her barefeet slapping on the linoleum of the hallway, right outside Fitz’s door as she screwed up her face, and shook her head.

“I know that what you saw could be distressing-” She tugged her hair behind her ears, trying to reason out the next part, under her breath, as she paced. “-And that you were quite relieved when we started over, without any of the other things hanging over our heads. Without having to feel obligated to try to care for me as you did before the _whole_ …”

Jemma waved her hand in the air, trying to jog the words that might explain the whole of it. “...Planet...Will... _thing_ …”

She grimaced, expelling a whiny breath. It was certainly lacking in eloquence, but she supposed, clarity, probably, was the key thing. “I know your feelings for me aren’t what they were before, and I’m not upset-” _Well that’s not quite true_...Even though Garner had ended up being a murderous inhuman, she had made a promise to speak her truth as best as she could. “-I’m not surprised,” She revised, a sad twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“And I know it’s completely inconsiderate, and I suppose it could be _even_ considered an issue of consent, to be doing _things_ to you in my mind that you would not appreciate - _nor even agree to_ in real life -”

* * *

 

Fitz stuck his tongue out briefly, wetting his lip before he bit down, his eyes tightly closed, superimposing Jemma’s face with her perfect, pink mouth bowed in pleasure, over the face of the woman in the video. Panting, he imagined himself dragging the large test tube up her inner thigh, parting her lab-coat - the only thing she wore - as the phallic glass (though more likely plastic, since it was porn, and he assumed whatever actual glass props would be safety hazards) came closer and closer -

* * *

 

“And I promise I will never, _ever_ use your photograph as a masturbatory aid ever again, and I will do my very best not to imagine you in compromising situations whilst - stimulating? Myself?” _Getting myself off? Wanking?_ What had Daisy called it? Double-clicking the mouse?

Jemma shook her head. Now was not the time to debate the correct vernacular.

She spun, pulling Fitz’s old woolen cardigan tighter, inhaling his scent, and thinking about the stubbled curve of his jaw.

She frowned, disconcerted.

This was going to be a much more difficult proposition than she had initial foreseen, upon beginning the first draft of this speech.

* * *

 

His breath came out in harsh pants as he stared at the screen, watching the test tube cut through the thatch of curls, right through the folds of the actress’s pink pussy, brushing her clit on every slow pass.

His eyes flicked closed, the actress replaced by Jemma, the hand on the large test tube, his. In his mind, he dipped the tip of it gently inside her, working it in and out, until she started begging, her voice a perfect mix of what he termed her ‘ _Ugh Fitz_ ’ tone, and her morning voice - a little breathy warble.

“ _Ugh_ , Fitz!” She whined, tilting her hips up from the lab bench, slipping more of the glass inside her than fantasy-him had intended, “Don’t _tease_ , I _hate it_ when you tease -” He cut her off by smoothly stroking the glassware deep inside her, just as he kissed her gasp away, biting at that puckered, pink little bottom lip.

 

* * *

 

She just had to do it.

It was an apology, and while the promise would be hard to enforce upon herself, she would try, for the sake of their friendship, not to let her mind include Fitz in her masturbatory fantasies, and not to perform non-consensual fantasy acts upon his person, which his non-fantasy self did not want.

* * *

 

Fitz’s hand on his cock squeezed hard and sped up, flicking and twisting as he pumped his dick in time, arching off the bed with every thrust, eyes wide and mouth open as his breath stuttered out his mouth, staring at the screen.

This was -

“ _Fuck_ ,” Fitz whimpered, his eyes darting to the selfie in the corner of the screen, and then back to the - frankly - _filthy_ act being depicted before him.

The camera angle shifted, and the actor’s cock slammed fast and hard into the actress from behind, glistening from her juices, as her hips banged rhythmically against the stainless steel bench. His hand was moving in time, pushing the test tube into her ass with each forward thrust, making her breath hitch in her throat as she moaned.

“Jemma, you _dirty_ girl.”

He gave a full-body shudder, his own cock leaking precum all over his fingers, his pulse beating out of it like hammer in his hand, his blood a loud rush in his ears.

* * *

 

Jemma inhaled deeply, staring at Fitz’s door, willing her hands to loosen from the back of her neck, where her nails were carving deep half-moons into her skin.

Friends didn’t fuck friends in their fantasies...Or in their fantasy labs.

Jemma sighed heavily in embarrassment, striding purposefully forward. She didn’t even stop to knock, in fear that the tiny pause between her rap and his assent would find her tearing down the hall to hide under her covers, completely afraid to face Fitz from now until forever.

She threw the door open and sucked in another deep breath to speak -

Fitz’s voice was a strangled moan, “Jemma, you _dirty_ girl.”

The air in her throat tangled with her tongue and her eyes were glued to the glistening head of his dick, rapidly crowning through his fist. She coughed, and his hips stuttered to the side, throwing the laptop onto the sheets as he moved onto his knees -

“ _Jemma!_ ” He screeched at her, his thumb dragging against his glans as he desperately tried to remove himself from himself, but it was too late - she couldn’t even look up at his stricken face - pearly fluid spurted forward onto the screen of the laptop - onto a video of a girl being pounded against a lab bench, a test tube inserted anally, and was _that_ -?

Fitz whimpered, and another jet of cum splatted against the image she’d been trying to make out from the distance - it seemed very familiar -

“I can exp-!” Fitz began.

Jemma suddenly felt wholly untethered from reality and all proper actions, “-I’ll just help dab-” she rushed forward, grabbing the box of tissues from the desk beside her.

“-Not wha’ it loo-”

“-Really must apolo-” Jemma pulled out a handful of tissues and made for the computer screen.

“ _What are_ -” Fitz’s hands forcefully grabbed her by the shoulders. “ _-you doing?!_ ” He squawked, pushing her away, “Don’t _HELP_ , for christssake!”

He covered his burning face with one hand, attempting to cup his still-hard cock in the other, though it kept nudging unhelpfully past his wrist, peeking out into the open air, right into Jemma’s view - who’s picture he’d just been _wanking_ to, using the _same video_ he’d caught _her_ wanking to -

“ _JUST GO, JEMMA!_ ” He demanded, turning to face the wall.

“-s-sorry.” Her voice was tiny and her footsteps rapid as he listened, the door pulling abruptly closed.

Fitz banged his head against the wall with a thud.

 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their mutually embarrassing encounters, Fitzsimmons seek advice from friends. 
> 
> The keyword for these conversations? 
> 
> Overshare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic is as canon-compliant as possible - that means there's some spoilers for 3.16! So if you haven't watched last night's episode, watch it first, and then read this chapter!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! Lemme know what you think!!

* * *

 

Daisy stretched her arm in front of her, using her opposite hand to pull it tight to her chest, trying to work out the ache in her tricep and shoulder from her training session with May. she’d been harder on her than usual because of all of the stuff with Andrew - neither one had really been interested in thinking, pushing their bodies to the limits instead, hoping to get out of their heads. It was understood between them.

She scrubbed hard at her sweaty face and pulled her hair out of her ponytail, giving it a shake. Her body felt well-used and tired, but that didn’t mean her brain was following suit.

All she could think about was Charles and Robyn, and how insistent she was, and how arrogant she’d been, thinking that she had the power to change the future, that she had the all the tools, from her vision. She’d seen things, sure, but she hadn’t seen _everything_. It’d been like she’d been viewing it with blinders on. Somehow that sent a wave of unease crashing through her again, and she suddenly decided that being alone with her thoughts, at six AM, with a full day ahead, wasn’t the company she wanted.

She made a beeline for the lab. Simmons was an early riser, and usually settling in with a cup of tea about now.

Craning her head through the window to locate her friend, she noticed the other woman standing at her usual workstation, her profile a picture of consternation.

She padded quietly towards her, trying not to break Simmons’ concentration.

Images flashed quickly, one after the other, on screen. They weren’t from satellites or from microscopes - they looked mostly like a collection of personal snapshots from their wide travels. It piqued her spy-senses.

“Whatcha looking for?” She asked in a sing-song, pulling her elbow behind her head to stretch out the long muscle of her upper arm.

Jemma moved at a frighteningly fast speed, flicking the monitor off and spinning in place. “Daisy! What a-are you doing here? In the lab?” Jemma gave a timorous, fake laugh, and added, “-just practicing your sneaking skills?”

Daisy raised a very pointed eyebrow, and tilted her head toward the screen. “What’s up there?”

She knew they’d been more distant recently - the nature of Jemma’s work and some of her more recent...pursuits...made easy conversation sometimes not so easy anymore. Silently, Daisy wondered why she’d thought this had been at all a good idea. She couldn’t seem to separate herself from the whole inhuman thing these days, it was just coming out everywhere. Sometimes, she thought bleakly, she missed when life was easier - when she was human.

“It’s nothing,” Jemma’s nose crinkled as she shook her head, telegraphing her lie.

Daisy brought her arms around from the stretch and crossed them against her chest, staring at the floor and nodding. “So.” She sighed. “Confidential Inhuman ‘ _vaccine_ ’ stuff, then?”

She didn’t know why she was bringing it up. She didn’t want to fight. But she couldn’t _not_ say what a bad, _terrible_ idea it was, the bad ends it could be used for, even if Jemma only had innocent hopes for it.

“ _No_!” Jemma cried, adamant. She was telling the truth.

Daisy’s head whipped up so fast she heard her neck crick. “What is it then?”

“It’s _just_ ...a, um…” Jemma gulped, casting her eyes about the room, “Just...ideas…” she trailed off, “... _Foooooor_ ….a. Um, _a_ -” She forced a breath of air slowly from behind her teeth, floundering, “A family scrapbook?”

Daisy expelled a despairing laugh. “How did you manage to survive for _months_ undercover at Hydra? Your lying is _such_ the worst.”

Jemma threw up her hands, flustered and irked, deflating from her shoulders as she slumped forward. “I had time to prepare! You just snuck up on me, right when I least expected it.” She said pointedly, smoothing her hair in a nervous gesture. “Sorry I can’t be _on_ all the time,” she said, her tone a tad biting, as she crossed her own arms.

“Simmons!” Daisy cried, suddenly feeling bad for her little scientist friend. “Come on, I’m just teasing!”

She squeezed Jemma in a friendly hug around the shoulders, “But really though, I could help. You can swear me to secrecy. Spy’s honour.” She brought up a hand in the girl scout salute.

Jemma rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth pulled into a little, pleased smile. “Only if you absolutely swear on the thing you hold _most sacred_ that you will not tell a soul!”

Daisy nodded. “I swear on Lincoln’s washboard abs, I will not tell a soul,” she said solemnly, before a cheeky wink. “Oh! And on the Harry Potter series.”

Jemma groaned, physically tilting her head back with the power of her eyeroll. “Fine. I suppose that will have to do.”

She flicked the monitor back on, and pointed to the folder of photographs. “I’m looking for a photo I think I recognized from fitz’s laptop last night, but I’m not sure, because he sort of...erm,” She looked at Daisy and bit her lip, as if trying to decide how much to say, before she sighed and threw her hands up.

“Before he came all over it, frankly,” she exhaled.

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Daisy screeched, recoiling and slapping at the air like she could smack away the unseen images that swam into her consciousness. “DUDE _NO!_ YOU NEED TO _PREFACE_ THAT SHIT!”

Jemma groaned again, miserably disgruntled.

“To _preface_ ,” she began, irritation beginning to seep into her tone, “Last night, I was engaging in a moment of personal sexual gratification. It has been quite some time since I was able to do so, and as an adult female, I know the importance of accommodating my instinctual urges, and it was quite overdue, to be honest.”

Daisy’s face had gotten rather pale, and her eyes wide, but she said nothing, so Jemma simply plowed on. “And I had a few masturbatory aids on my screen, and Fitz happened to walk in and witness this _very private_ act.”

Jemma shrugged her shoulders and feigned nonchalance. “He saw the pornography on the screen, and the, um,” Her volume and pitch began to rise with the distress she felt, retelling the whole, embarrassing situation, “... _picture_ ...I was using for inspiration, and before I could explain that I hadn’t intended _anything_ non-consensual from having him up there, he simply _left_!”

Daisy held up a hand and took a step forward. “Hold up, hold up - _non-consensual_ ? _Him_ up there? JEMMA SIMMONS!” Daisy’s face broke into an expression somewhere between a delighted grin and a horrified one, “Do you have pervy photos of _Fitz?!_ ”

“ _NO!_ I HAVE _NORMAL_ PHOTOS OF HIM!” Jemma shouted back, smacking her hands on her thighs.

“Wait - but how did he end up cumming on the screen if you were the one double-clickin’ the mouse?”

Jemma waved her pointer finger enthusiastically at the other girl’s face, “ _THANK YOU!_ That’s my question as well! Because of course, I felt _so_ guilty, performing those sexual acts upon him in my mind that I needed to apologize, and so I sort of barged into _his_ room, to see him -” Her voice dropped to harsh, excited whisper, two twin spots of pink suffusing her cheeks, “wanking off - rather furiously, might I add - to the _exact same_ pornographic video-”

“-Oh god, please stop, please stop,” Daisy begged in a whisper, squeezing her eyes shut and cringing.

“- I recognized the moaning. And the test tube anal insertion, but that’s neither here nor there - and _I think_ I recognized the picture in the corner of the screen, but he was jostling all about and just ejaculated all over the screen before I could identify it!” Jemma threw her hands exasperatedly in the air.

“I didn’t know what to do!” she cried, clasping a hand to her chest. “I just kept thinking about how terribly the ejaculate would gum up the laptop keys and probably damage the wires connecting the monitor screen, and just _completely ruin_ his computer - which is new, by the way - and I sort of rushed forward to help him clean it up before I gave my speech-apology, and he just _shoved_ me from the room! Fitz never shoves me! He seemed _so_ upset.”

Jemma flopped down on her chair, the little wheels rolling her a few inches away. “I mean, I assumed his feelings about me had changed after the Planet, and finding out about Will, and all of the multitude of problems I keep causing, but...I sort of, held onto some hope I think...and after your vision, and we _held hands_ ,” Her voice took on a soft, wistful quality, “But then he rejected my help _so_ vociferously, and I think...probably me as well…”

“Aww, Jemma,” Daisy cooed, petting her hair awkwardly. “You little weirdo. I don’t think so,”

Her shoulders fell forward, bereft. “But then there’s the video, and I think - I _think_ the photo may have been a selfie we took in South America a few years ago, from the Bus days, so I’m very confused.”

Daisy nodded toward the screen. “So you’re going to hunt down the photo to check, and over-analyze the most embarrassing mutual masturbation encounter known to man? Huh?”

“Well…” Jemma began, trying to rationalize it, and then giving up with a whooshing exhale, “Yes. something like that. I just need data!”

“Fourteen year old girls everywhere agree with you, babe.” Daisy sighed, pulling a chair over from an empty workstation and then straddling it as she faced the computer. “But I figured you’d be pretty much, I dunno, out of the realm of _Tigerbeat Teen Cosmo_ overthinking? You said you had boyfriends at the academy...And I mean, you said it yourself, but, like, there was Will, too. This kinda thing can’t be _that_ mystifying, can it?”

“I said I had _encounters_ at the Academy. Not boyfriends. Usually they were sexually experimental and designed to fill a biological urge, not... _you know_. They were short-lived, at any rate, and nothing resembling a relationship. And Will, well...that was,” Jemma cast her eyes to the ceiling, her expression becoming one of guilt and grief. “That was very different. Fitz is…” she trailed off, helplessly.

Daisy nodded, squeezing her friend’s knee. “Fitz is important.”

Jemma whimpered feebly, “He’s more than that - _he’s_ …” She trailed off again, her eyes getting starry and her cheeks colouring as she gestured with her hand, trying to conjure up the words.

“Special?” Daisy tried again.

Jemma nodded, and then shook her head no. “I mean, he is, _he is_ , he’s so special to me, but it’s just that….He’s  - _he’s everything_ ,” She admitted, breathless. “I can’t seem to find the right term for it - taxonomically nothing fits to describe it -”

Jemma looked near tears, so Daisy just nodded, tilting her head with a companionable smile, and then pointed back to the screen. “I can write you a search algorithm if you want?”

Jemma nodded gratefully, pushing away from the workstation to give Daisy space to work.

“Also - semi-unrelated, but - _Jemma Simmons. You little perv_. Butt-stuff? Really? I mean, you do you - in the butt if that’s what you like I guess. I’m just so impressed. I thought you’d be super vanilla, for some reason.” Daisy giggled, clacking away at the keys, shaking her head in shocked pride.

Jemma scoffed. “I’m a scientist, Daisy. Experimenting is literally my life’s work.”

 

* * *

 

"And if person A, hypothetically, were to then decide to attempt to help clean up Person B's -"

Mack set the wrench down, digging into the hood with a rag, his encumbered sigh echoing around the garage. " _Hypothetically_ , Turbo," Mack says, "Person B should just give Person A what she wants."

" _Which is?!_ " Fitz cried, waving a Philips-head screwdriver around, a bit maniacally, in the air.

His hair was all snarls and cowlicks, his scruff a bit longer and more unkempt this evening than usual, and he’d been camped out ‘helping’ in the garage all day, running through some very odd, very explicit, and increasingly more and more specific hypotheticals all afternoon.

Mack turned, annoyance and exhaustion nettling his features. “Honestly, Turbo, I think that you should -”

“It’s not _me_ , Mack! It’s nothing to do with me! It’s a _hypothetical_! A thought-experiment, if you will,” Fitz declared, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

“Hypothetically speaking,” Mack began, dismissal dripping from his deep, basso profundo, _“Hypothetical genius_ person B should take a _hypothetical_ clue from the _hypothetical_ lab porn to _hypothetically_ seduce Simmons - I mean person A, in the lab. Like she wants."

He quirked a pointed eyebrow, and waved his soiled rag in the general direction of the lab. "Come on, man. I don’t care how embarrassed you were. She pretty much plotted a road map for you. Just ride that bike right along to the destination, man."

Fitz gulped and nodded.

He kept nodding, his hands migrating to his hips. “Just, erm...ride her. _IT_! IT. Yep. Totally doable.”

Mack smirked. “A tip?”

Fitz glanced his way.

“Hypothetical, of course,” Mack added. “Maybe take a shower. Get cleaned up. Find one of those shirts Bobbi got for you.”

“D’you think a blue one?” Fitz asked, wringing his hands nervously.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz readies himself for his lab encounter with Simmons, trying to revise the whole 'seduction' thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had all these grand plans about getting this chapter all fully written before noon today, but then around 8AM, a migraine hit, which was super helpful for my productivity.
> 
> I managed to get this section done, which I figured I should just put up anyways, and hope people aren't too mad that the chapter isn't longer. I have high hopes on getting the next one done before the weekend is out!

Fitz dragged a hand-towel through his short hair, parting steam as he exited his bathroom, scanning the room for his laptop. He tossed the hand-towel behind him, his brows pulling forward with a focused intent. This was what Jemma wanted, wasn’t it?

Inevitable, she’d said. About _them_.

And then there’d been the porn, which, on it’s own, wasn’t _exactly_ tipping her hand, but coupled with the picture (which Mack had promised him was _no_ coincidence), was certainly no red herring.

And then she’d burst into his room - he’d never been so grateful _in his life_ (nor did he anticipate ever being again) to get cum-splatter so accurately placed by accident - it had definitely covered her face. _Definitely_.

His damp towel squelched beneath him as he scooted the chair forward toward the desk, and set his laptop whirring. A few sticky keys later, and he was grimacing at the aggregated results he’d pulled up.

“Well…” He mumbled, checking the clock before settling in, “Got to start somewhere.”

It probably would have been better (if somewhat more embarrassing) if he’d asked Mack for some tips on seduction...or even...you know... _sex_. It wasn’t that he was some young innocent, some sweet summer child with no understanding - He got the mechanics of it right enough, he was an engineer after all - Tab A, Slot B, whilst circling with somewhat of a technique on the little starter button C.

C stood for Clitoris.

He knew that. He’d watched porn! He’d even stolen a few of Jemma’s one-handed-reads a time or two, just to see what that was all about.

But, on the whole, being a brilliant genius rocketing through course after course, obtaining a doctorate as a teenager, and then joining an international spy agency didn’t really leave one much by way of time for relationships and the wooing of women...Or even provide the necessary skill attainment classes for doing so.

And so here he was, trying not to tell one of his best mates that he was a big ol’ virgin, whilst trying to figure out how to seduce his _actual_ best mate, love of his life, one-and-only, forever-after, cosmos-cursed, woman-of-his-dreams by madly revising through google search results.

Fitz let his head thunk heavily on the desk. This was going to be a disaster.

“Give person A what she wants,” he groaned pitifully, face mashed into the desk. It wasn’t like he’d ever been able to refuse Jemma anything. Let alone this. _She said you were inevitable_ , he reminded himself, scratching the sparse hair near his nipple as he sat back.

With a nod of his head and a renewed determination, Fitz hovered the mouse over the link: [ http://www.wikihow.com/Seduce-a-Woman ](http://www.wikihow.com/Seduce-a-Woman), and then clicked.

  * **_**_Go Slow_**_**



“How’s nearly twelve years for slow? Listen more than you talk? I didn’t even _speak_ to her for three months,” He muttered, scrolling to the next step, feeling slightly better about his predicament. Step one had been passed with flying colours.

 

  1. _**Dress up** If you want a woman to notice you, you'll have to dress your best. Work on dressing up if you expect to see someone you're attracted to at a bar, party, or other event._


  * _Choose nice, flattering clothing. If you're worried your current wardrobe is too drab, go to a department store. You can ask a sales consultant to help you choose an outfit that's flattering for your body._



Fitz took a quick glance at his bed, where he’d laid out a chambray button-up Bobbi had purchased for him, and a pair of charcoal slacks which she’d, likewise, assisted in purchasing.

“Trust me,” He remembered her saying, his mouth pressing together nostalgically at the thought, “I got them tailored a bit for you - people already like seeing you walking into a room. Now they’re gonna _love_ seeing you leave one,” She’d said with a wink.

He still didn’t know what she meant by it, but he had seen a few of the lab techs looking at him since his wardrobe upgrade, and had thought he’d seen an appreciative glance or two from Simmons when he’d been leaning to work on something.

But maybe he should try something more dashing? Something really debonair, like a three piece suit -  


  * _Remember, it's sexy to be yourself. Strive to look your best on your own terms. That is, do not shave if you enjoy having a beard or dress in a suit where you're more of a button down guy. You won't feel comfortable if you're not behaving like yourself. This is something your date can easily sense and confidence is key to seduction.[[2]](http://www.wikihow.com/Seduce-a-Woman#_note-2)_



 

Fitz sighed and ran his hands down the planes of his face. _Or not_. So he’d just look like his boring old self then. He flung a glance around the room for something that would be appropriate and normal-ish for him to wear, and something that might send Jemma’s heart beating just a bit faster.

Fitz grinned, seeing the light blue sleeve of his lab-coat hanging out of his laundry basket. Perfect. There’d been _all kinds_ of lab-coats in that porn. They’d met no actual regulation or ANSI standards, of course, but that didn’t matter - his did. 

  * _Take a shower before you go out and consider using a bit of cologne. Too much could be overpowering, but a dab of a classy scent can help_ _ _.__ ** _ ** _  
_**_**



“Why don’t I have any cologne?” He wondered aloud, helplessly. “Why didn’t Bobbi tell me to buy cologne?!”

He stood up, turning in a sharp circle, and reached for his Old Spice deodorant. It was very fragrant. “You’ll have to do, old friend,” He muttered, slathering it into his armpits with a series of extra swipes. He paused, peered downwards towards his tied towel, and squinted, before surreptitiously holding it open, and swiping around down there too.

Just in case.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz finally works up the nerve to test his seduction skills in a lab setting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This would have definitely been posted sooner, except that there was a big family to-do.
> 
> Big huge shout out to @badscienceshenanigans, my awesome beta, without whom the science would be crap!

Jemma motioned for Agent Valdez’s soapy graduated cylinder. “Go on, Alicia. Tell Doug he doesn’t have to share you with clean-up duty tonight,” she said with a tense smile.

“You sure you’re alright, Agent Simmons?” Valdez inquired, “You know I don’t mind - are you sure you’re not getting sick? You’ve seemed out of it and kind of tired all day…”

Jemma waved her off with a fractionally brighter pull of her lips, hoping that it might translate to her eyes. “Oh tosh! I’m perfectly well, I assure you. Long night, little sleep, not enough tea in the world, I’m afraid,” She tittered.

Luckily, it wasn’t actually a lie. She _had_ been up until the wee hours, following up on Daisy’s search results (of which there were none), and then discussing expanding the search parameters and the rebuttal of that (on point of ethics and privacy and the fact that if Fitz had wanted her to know about said photo, he would have shown her), and then further exploring the in-depth analysis of what this all meant, in the grand scheme of things, for her and Fitz, and if the picture was not of her, then of who it might be, and how desperately sad it made her, but how she was not surprised really, after everything, and then how very confused she was about it all, because of the handholding and the moving forward and -- Finally, Daisy insisted that she let her brain rest before it short-circuited, and to try to put it out of her mind.

Before she left her at her door with a tight, supportive hug, Daisy assured her that Fitz was interested in her still, and would probably always be interested in her, and that regardless of the complexities of the situation, sometimes the best way to deal with relationship issues was just to ask.

Jemma had patted her on the back and nodded in understanding, and had crawled into bed, counting the pockmarks on the ceiling tiles until four in the morning, in between wondering how someone as worldly as Daisy could be quite so naive as all that.

She also wondered how heavy Fitz’s cock would feel in her hand, and if he would whimper or grunt if she squeezed it, and just how on earth she was going to face the next day. Or the next week. Or the next few years, in point of fact, balancing on the knife-edge of british unspoken propriety and an insatiable scientific curiosity to _know_ what it all meant.

 

* * *

As he plodded down the hall to certain doom, Fitz’s eyes scanned the text on the screen of his Apple Watch.

 

> _**Get a devil-may-care attitude when you're seducing that special someone. Be, within reason, a little bit reckless: Do something a little risque or unexpected to keep them guessing. Maybe go out to the beach in the middle of the night. Maybe go on an unannounced trip for a couple of days. Try to cultivate a little bit of mystery.** _

_Risque. Unexpected. A little reckless._ He reached up quickly and doffed his safety goggles, tucking them away in the pocket of his lab coat - his _open_ lab coat. _How’s that for protocol?_ He thought, with a little ‘Down Tiger!’ growl in his mind, either the nerves or a sudden rush of confidence seeping in slowly. Surreptitiously, he undid the top two buttons on his shirt, exposing his adam’s apple and a generous swath of neck.

He could be dashing and mysterious.

 

* * *

She unstoppered the drain, watching as the water swirled into a tiny tornado down the pipe, when the patter of footsteps approached.

“Honestly, Agent Valdez,” Jemma began, wiping her hands absently on a paper towel, “I’m -” Jemma’s words garbled in her throat, and all she could manage to croak was, “- _Fitz_.”

The man in question rapidly flushed, colour curling around his ear tops and suffusing his cheeks a ruddy shade, before his gesticulating mouth finally managed, “-My name, actually.”

Perhaps it was just that she had witnessed him masturbate to completion the other night, but she could swear there was something different about him - the way he held himself maybe? Or was it the way he had buttoned his shirt? There was an awful lot of neck, suddenly.

“...It is that.”Jemma said, her eyes wandering to the long, masculine line of his throat, where it began to darken above his adam’s apple with scruff. Unbidden, she thought suddenly of how much she’d like to press a lingering, open mouth kiss right at the spot where it began, and then abruptly, dragged her eyes to his face.

His eyes. Those would be safe.

 _Or not_. Jemma gulped, connecting with his wide blue gaze, which was a mirror of her own nervousness and unease.He blinked, shell-shocked.

 

> _**Use eye contact to flirt. Eyes are incredibly powerful tools, so use them wisely. Lock eyes with your date when you're talking; there's nothing that screams confidence like a good look into someone's eyes. If you're using eye contact to flirt, however, don't scan the room staring at every person. People want to feel special, so learn to locate a few candidates and shower them with your eye-attention.** _

Attempting to lean nonchalantly against a stainless steel countertop whilst maintaining eye-contact, he stumbled a bit, miscalculating the distance, his arm connecting with an echo-y clang.

Fitz exhaled a fake-sounding tightrope of a laugh. It was stretched thin and a bit terrified. His eyes skittishly flashed to Jemma’s again - a sudden jolt of feeling walloped her in the chest. Just as quickly, he’d turned to the side, staring down at his wrist like it held some problematic equation he couldn’t figure out.

* * *

 

> **_[Be playful.](http://www.wikihow.com/Be-Playful) Smile. [Flirt](http://www.wikihow.com/Flirt). [Touch](http://www.wikihow.com/Touch-a-Girl). [Tease](http://www.wikihow.com/Turn-a-Girl-On). Don't be too serious, people enjoy having a good time. Have fun with this person. Enjoy the game._  ** **_Studies have found that a playful attitude makes people more attractive.[[2]](http://www.wikihow.com/Learn-the-Art-of-Seduction#_note-2)Playfulness in males signals non-aggression, while in females it signals youth and fertility._ **

Fitz sucked in a panicked breath. He was playful - why, he had not only instigated that prank war back on the Bus, but he’d won it. Or well...Really, the dimension jumping not-ghost had. But he hadn’t even been _intentional_ about it so it didn’t count, and -

* * *

 

Jemma cleared her throat, watching as Fitz’s brows drew up in consternation. She knew, technically, that she should simply refuse to broach the subject, remain cordial, be completely professional and maintain the boundaries of their friendship, especially after that blatant rejection, but -

“Hy-y-pothetical, erm, question,” Fitz said, squeezing the bridge of his nose and clamping his eyes shut, like he was trying to concentrate, “Say perhaps, erm, _a person_ \- let’s just call them Person A - was, erm.. _.interested_ ? In erm, _another_ person - Person B, for the sake of this exercise, of course - and uh, was...was...not _quite_ sure how to, quite, uh, broach, the um, the _subject_ , of erm…”

He rounded the fingers of one hand, connecting the thumb and the forefinger into a circle, and then prodded through it crudely with his other pointer finger, his face as flushed as if he’d been doing handstands.

“In a...a...a _respectful_ , and erm, _consensual_ , and uh, non-damaging way? Taking into account the typical issues around gender and power dynamics and societal expectations and so forth, and intersectional feminism, of course,” He finally managed to squeak out.

Jemma squinted at him for a long moment.

“Is this about Daisy and Lincoln? Has he approached you about something, er, _confidential_ ? In the nature of his and Daisy’s relationship? Because I was under the firm impression that her confidently aggressive sexuality was a large factor in their coupling, and that Lincoln was _quite_ liking it - which isn’t to say that can’t change, obviously, because consent should be constantly sought and given through the _entire_ seduction and cop-”

Jemma blinked, suddenly realizing just what she was so frankly referring to, and remembering (quite vividly) the night before, embarrassment leeching into her bones.

“ _Copulation_ ,” She swallowed hard, trying to to hide the strange, nervous warble in her tone, and spun, headed toward the dilution carboys. “ Erm, Sex. Process... And stuff.” Her hands fumbled with the latch on the glass and chrome case where their chemical solutions were stored. “Quite.”

She feigned complete self-control, timing an appropriate, professional, not-shaken-or-flustered-by-talk-of-fornication-at-all smile back at Fitz, who was rapidly striding over to her, purpose quaking in every footstep. Blindly, she reached into the cabinet around a rough approximation of the location of the hydrochloric acid, flattening against the half-closed glass door as he came closer still.

There was a heated, almost molten quality to his expression - the determined set of his mouth, the pull of his brow - Jemma was sure, she was _absolutely certain_ of it, that this - _this_ was the moment.

He was all of two steps from pressing that firm, dress-shirted line of the front of his body against hers, two steps from those perfect lips descending madly on her own -

Jemma shuddered a tiny sigh, and felt her eyelids drop in anticipation.

And then -

...then

…

...nothing happened?

* * *

 

Her breasts were shaking the sheer fabric of her blouse with every hitched breath, her stunted words fading into the background as his entire world seemed to narrow down to the pink movements of her mouth, forming sounds and words and he assumed language and -

shit, wasn’t there was a thing about language?!

Stopping abruptly, Fitz brought his wrist up to his nose, quickly scanning the text on his watch.

 

> **_Use your body language to flirt. If you're not Shakespeare-skilled with words, don't fret. You can send subtle signals to people you want to attract, depending on the social situation. Don't be afraid to touch someone's arm or shoulder lightly when you're talking to them. Physical contact by men actually increases the temperature of women, sometimes by a whole degree Celsius._ ** [ **_[5]_ **   
>  ](http://www.wikihow.com/Learn-the-Art-of-Seduction#_note-5)

A tiny noise of frightened bewilderment escaped his throat. How in the Holy Name of Christ Jesus, and the _entire_ bloody Holy Family did one use body language to flirt?! _Was he supposed to just thrust his hips madly like some reject from the Rocky Horror Picture Show time-warp dance scene and hope to bloody heaven she understood?_

Suddenly, Jemma was looking at him, her face a mask of perplexity and hasty annoyance. With an audible groan under her breath, shoulders dropping in disappointment, she turned on her heel and slid the cabinet door closed with a _snick_ of the lock.

She set the concentrated bottle of acid on the countertop, and turned back, not even daring to glance at him, her mouth set in a firm moue of vexation.

That particular adorable little pout was one he knew well. It meant just one thing, and was always reserved for him, and him alone.

It meant he’d fucked up, and fucked up royally.

But that was okay, because there was plan B.

 

> _**Try music. A little music can help get her in the mood. Remember, keep the focus on her and not you. Choose a type of music she'd like but also songs that are slow, soothing, and sensual.** _   
> 

Swiping his finger across the tiny screen, he connected a previously prepared playlist to the lab speakers.

Jemma wasn’t the only one who excelled at preparation, after all.

* * *

 

The first acoustic strains of Coldplay’s _Yellow_ strummed into the stilted silence of the lab, and Jemma straightened, letting the wheeled carboy roll to a slow stop, bumping against her leg.

This had been the first song they’d ever danced to.

He’d let her drag him out onto the Boiler Room dance floor, grumpy and anxious, canting his weight from foot to foot, pulling at his sleeves, his cheeks burning and his eyes screaming how he wanted to be anywhere but here, sixteen and all graceless angles, being bumped into by people nearly twice that, at some stupid Valentine’s Dance.

But he’d gone out there because she’d asked. It was supposed to have been a fast song, the whole set had been ska and pop-punk and then suddenly, there was the clash of electric guitars and Chris Martin’s keening voice, and Fitz, with his arms around her, and she’d felt her heart thump like she’d weighed it down with rocks, and it had dragged her under, and she’d known, unconsciously (not like now, not like this moment, where she felt it thrumming with rightness in every cell of her body) that she was dead gone on that boy, as her Grandmother Simmons used to say.

_Your skin/Oh yeah your skin and bones/Turn into/Something beautiful,/Do you know,/You know I love you so,/You know I love you so._

And there he was. His adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed, his face sketched with terror, wringing his hands, eyes shining - all blue brightness.

Just the same.

Fitz took a deep breath, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and took a step forward, just as the song switched, and those tell-tale piano keys sounded.

The colour drained from his face.

“ _Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you’re never coming around_ ,” Bonnie Tyler’s husky vocals cut like a knife through the taut, earnest expectancy that had filled the room.

Fitz shut his eyes. This could not be happening.

This was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad dream.

* * *

 

**4 AM, The previous night**

Daisy pulled out her phone to plug it in before she fell asleep. “Crap,” She muttered, swiping her fingers across the screen. She’d forgotten to shut down the search algorithm - if Fitz found it crawling through his data, he’d eat her alive. Disappointment was always so much more disappointing in a Scottish accent.

“Well hello, ya wee lassie...” There it was, without even a secret code name or anything. Just there for any hacker to see.

_Lab Seduction Playlist for JS_

  * __Coldplay ‘Yellow’__



“I mean, a bit dated, but sure,” She mumbled, clicking play on the next song, number two, The Wombats ‘Jump into the Fog’

Her nose wrinkled. “Come on Fitz, you want to get her into bed, not ask her to awkward not-quite-slow-dance at the Junior High sock-hop - and what? Frightened Rabbit? What even _is_ that? I _cannot_. Nope. I cannot let you do this to yourself.”

And then, that terrifying 4 AM devious smile uncurled grinchily across her face. “Lemme help you out, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal,” A devilish snicker escaped Daisy. “When I’m done, even Jemma couldn’t misconstrue your intentions.”

* * *

 

“ _I REALLY NEED YOU TONIGHT_!” Bonnie screeched.

Fitz squeezed his eyes tighter. This was fine.

“ _FOREVER’S GONNA START TONIGHT! FOREVER’S GONNA START TONIGHT_!”

He didn’t know who would do such a heinous thing, but he’d just, well. He’d just -

“ _Once upon a time, I was falling in love, but now I’m only falling apart…_ ”

Fitz whimpered and cast his eyes to the heavens. _Just go with it,_ he told himself.

“ _There’s nothing I can do, a total a eclipse of the heart_ ,”

He turned to Jemma, smothering giggles with the tiny patch of wrist-skin between her lab coat and her glove, her face red with mirth.

“ _Once upon a time there was light in my life, but now there’s only love in the dark - nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart_ ,”

“I uh,” Fitz began, scratching sheepishly at the stubble on his jaw, “I think that, erm, someone got at my playlist,” He mumbled.

Jemma doubled-over, no longer able to hold back the gales of laughter. “Why ever would you say that?! Why this is your most favourite song!” She cackled.

“Har Har Har,” Fitz grumbled, crossing his arms high over his chest. This seduction was going perfectly. That was the next step wasn’t it? Get her to laugh at his utter humiliation at the hands of some unknown villain and Bonnie freaking Tyler. “ That’s quite enou-”

“ _TURN AROUND BRIGHT-EYES_!” Jemma sang, twisting on her heel and singing into the funnel in her gloved hand.

Fitz groaned in displeasure. This wasn’t funny. None of it.

He brought his hands down, pulling at the skin of his face like he was in that painting, _The Scream_ , and tried very hard not to let the sputter of laughter that threatened break through.

This was seduction. It was serious business.

His cheeks grew hot and red as Jemma turned back to her task. Bonnie Tyler blessedly fading into a softer R&B tune. Something familiar, at least. He heaved a sigh of relief, and strode a bit closer. He wished he could place it…

“Close your eyes, make a wish, and blow out the candlelight, for tonight is just your night,” Jemma crooned softly, bending forward as her hair cascaded against the side of her face.

Oh God. It was Boyz 2 Men.

_Just go with it. Pretend it’s supposed to be there, and isn’t the song you used to play to cover the sounds of furious wanking, back when we lived in that horrible, tiny flat with the cardboard walls when you first saw her breasts by accident when the water heater broke and she tripped and the towel slipped and  - Just, just breathe._

This was totally fine.

* * *

 

Jemma could hear the squeak of his shoes on the floor behind her, their slow approach, and the tremulous quality of his breathing. She could feel the way his body heat radiated, inching up the temperature of the air between them, as she quietly sang the words she knew by heart.

Their first year at SciOps, after the academy, Fitz had played this song practically _all_ the time. Somehow, between the way he had been looking at her and the nostalgic reminiscence of their early days together, she’d forgotten to tie her hair back as she set her _mise en place_. It was usually the final task in her end of set-up procedure. But her hair was short, and not likely to get in the way so much as irritate her, scratching at the back of her neck as she worked, refilling a half-empty carboy that should have been full of a mild hydrochloric acid solution.

These end-of-day tasks were the most repetitive, and the easiest to fall into an almost sleep-walking sort of muscle memory for, which was never a good idea. This was especially true when one made a large amount of dilute solution by measuring out a modest amount of acid so concentrated that it poured like syrup, as one did in this very instance. Aside from that, though, it was a simple measure-and-pour job. Nothing difficult or labour-intensive, and certainly nothing unusual. _She could do this._

She was not flustered in the least. Fitz’s proximity did nothing to affect her resting heart-rate, nor her breathing quality, and was not going to make her hands get all trembly, she declared in her mind. _And that’s that_.

Jemma shook her head, tossing her hair behind her ears before she began pouring the reluctant acid into the funnel, trying to reduce as much distraction as possible. She forcibly willed her flustered brain not to pay attention to the way she could feel Fitz’s body mere inches behind her, nor to smell the comforting spicy scent of his cologne.

“Here,” He said, just as she positioned the spout of the funnel into the mouth of the carboy. “Let me.”

His voice was a deep, rough timbre, and his hands were suddenly hot and splayed against the back of her neck. His fingers carded against her scalp, running furrows into her hair, collecting it into a ponytail. Jemma couldn’t help the tremble in her shoulders, nor the tiny, tremulous sigh at the unexpected touch, her hands shaking as she poured the solution.

She should grouse at him for being too close, for distracting her, but it just felt _too_ good -

“Bloody _shit_ !” Jemma ducked, sensing something gone horribly wrong as the carboy hissed and little pops and splashes sounded around her. A vengeful-looking little white cloud was oozing out the top of the funnel. All the acid that used to be in it was gone, having been popped right out from the pressure of the forming gas.   
  
“ _Fuck bugger_ **_SHIT_ ** _Wanke_ r!” Jemma cried, realizing from the smell that the gas was _probably_ chlorine. Jemma dove for the fan switch-

“ **_AAUUUUUGGHHHH!_ ** !” Fitz shouted, stumbling back in sudden pain, “ **_WHAT THE CHRIST?!_ ** ” He plucked at his shirt, gingerly holding it away from his body just as Jemma grabbed him by the arm, throwing him bodily for the lab sink.

“Taps!” She commanded. He threw them as fast as he could, blasting out pressurized water like a firehose.

“ _Jem_ -” It was all he was able to utter before she ripped his shirt off, sending buttons pinging across the room, and thrust his head under the spray, soaking him from the crown of his head to half-way down his thighs, effectively waterboarding him.

The angle was just slightly off, a large swath of Fitz’s chest remaining determinedly dry, much to his chagrin. Jemma bulldozed on, scooping handfuls of water and slapping them against his chest, over and over again.

This was definitely how he’d envisioned her hands on his man-nipples for the first time.

Yep. This was fine.


End file.
